


Fragile Care

by eyemeohmy



Series: robot antichrist plays with broken bird [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Shattered Glass
Genre: Angst, Darkfic, Finger Sucking, Humiliation, M/M, Mild Pet Play, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 10:27:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1854709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemeohmy/pseuds/eyemeohmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An hour later, Starscream found himself retching up energon in his burning tanks on Ratchet's medbay floor. Ratchet had scoffed and mockingly told him the virus had apparently been tampered with to be a little less fatal for the Seeker, so "you should be grateful."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fragile Care

**Author's Note:**

  * For [babbling_bug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babbling_bug/gifts).



> Dedicated to my tumblr buddies 9arco95 and babblingbug for giving me a prompt to work with.
> 
> Been a while since I really wrote for this continuity, so please pardon any errors.

"... suffered twenty-eight casualties. On the other hand, we also lost five of our own troops."

Optimus had been rather silent, stalking down the hall; his shoulders raised, tense as the glow in his optics. Hot Rod trailed behind him, occasionally looking up from the recent field report to sneer at the Autobot leader's back. He really _hated_ being ignored; this wasn't even his damn job. But reckless Ultra Magnus just had to go and get his face blown off after disobeying the Prime's orders. He'd be in the medbay for a few days--if Optimus didn't feel like beating him again.

"Sir?" Hot Rod pressed.

"What else?"

Hot Rod scrunched up his nose. He scrolled to the second page, attempting to keep up with the looming giant. "Um," he mumbled, not so very professionally, "that's about it. Anything you'd like me to address or tell the others?"

Optimus stopped, and Hot Rod realized they were at the tyrant's hab-suite. "Nothing of the sort," he replied. "Besides." He turned to punch in the code, making sure his treacherous little foot soldier wasn't watching. The doors hissed as they slid open; he looked back to Hot Rod and said, "You'd just bungle it up. I can't even trust you to relay a few simple commands."

Hot Rod clenched his teeth, jaw working slightly. His fingers closed tight around the datapad, nearly enough to break it.

"That'll be all, Hot Rod."

 _Rodimus_ , the Autobot grumbled under his breath. Too inaudible for the Prime to hear--not that he was paying attention, or honestly cared. Hot Rod might have said something, but when he raised his head, the doors had already been shut on his face, nearly catching that new mustache mod between them.

Optimus couldn't help but feel a little tickled; it was just too fun demeaning that little bastard. He often forgot his place; and while this could fuel a future mutiny... Well, he saw that more as a game than a legitimate challenge. Nonetheless, Optimus sighed; the room was dark, lit mostly by overhead purple piping, casting a few pale shadows over a nearby desk and the edge of his berth.

"Hello, Starscream. And how are we feeling today?"

The room was flooded in light a second later. Starscream winced, curling back away under the shadow of the desk. His optics adjusted, slowly, apertures little white pinpricks. He reluctantly uncurled, grimaced; it was... difficult. Meeting the Autobot leader's gaze. Starscream could only hold it a few seconds.

Optimus noted his blue optics were paler than usual, and there was a certain grayish color to his cheeks. The remains of his wings were slump and limp against his back.

But, still-- "Don't be rude," Optimus said, and Starscream jolted, pushing down a scream as he yanked at the collar pumping painful but harmless volts of electricity into his vocalizer. "I asked you how you were feeling."

Starscream gasped as the electrocution stopped. He panted, an ugly heaving sound from tired fans. "... Nn. Still..." He tried to respond, really he did, but speaking hurt nearly as much as thinking. His head ached so bad, even holding it up was a chore.

"The virus will circulate out of your system in two more days," Optimus reassured. He bent forward, and Starscream flinched; couldn't move fast enough as Optimus curled a finger under his chin and give it a playful nick. "Chin up."

Starscream invented with a raspy noise. Two days ago, he made the mistake of refusing a glass of high grade from Optimus. It was a rare occasion the Prime drank; usually always after a spectacular victory. It was not only rude of Starscream to turn down the drink, but also highly insulting. An hour later, Starscream found himself retching up energon in his burning tanks on Ratchet's medbay floor. Ratchet had scoffed and mockingly told him the virus had apparently been tampered with to be a little less fatal for the Seeker, so "you should be grateful."

Two days, and Starscream struggled with this influenza, his defense matrix helpless. He wanted to cry on so many occasions; couldn't eat, couldn't recharge, couldn't focus. His frame shook and rattled; everything ached in agony, from the tips of his boots to the very top of his helm. It was getting more and more unbearable, and Starscream could not help the whimper he made when Optimus "comfortingly" told him this would only last two _more_ days.

Starscream switched off his optics, his vision straining. He held his head, attempted to even his breathing.

"Oh, but I did bring your medicine."

Starscream powered up one optic. He felt a chill of anger rush through his beaten and bruised ember. Optimus removed a small cube from an arm compartment, holding it up as he took a seat on the edge of the berth. The shimmering green liquid was not medicine--not entirely. It was a sedative, one that would temporarily numb his pain receptors (and, ha, he'd lost control of those a _long_ time ago) for a good half hour.

The first day, Starscream refused and suffered through the misery. Day two, and the pain was too incredible to ignore. His auto-pilot switched over; he needed to refuel, needed to fix himself. And if Starscream wasn't going to do it, then his survival subroutines would. He had to swallow his pride; it hurt too much, and it'd been so long since he'd had the chance to just... check out for a while.

Starscream felt like crying--Megatron would be so ashamed of him right now. He tried fighting Optimus, he really did, but now... Megatron would understand. His situation was hopeless. It was a living nightmare. Just a break every now and then to forget and slip into obliviousness--but, no, Megatron would be so disappointed.

Optimus watched Starscream quietly for a moment, a certain _proud_ , soft glow in his optics. The Seeker was shaking, but not from pain. His head hanging, face hidden beneath shadows, but Optimus knew--

"Come now," and there was that false concern, that playful patronizing sweetness, as he reached over and gently pat Starscream on the head. The Seeker tried to tense up, but could not stop the shivering--from both pain, and his intense, nauseous wave of self-loathing. "You need to relax."

Starscream wanted to tell Optimus he needed to die--would rather die than be this subservient plaything to the Autobot leader. He wanted to tell Optimus that, even better yet, _he_ deserved to be the one suffering and in pain. Starscream often liked to believe he was above such petty desires--wishing harm on his enemies--but now he would give both his disabled thrusters and optics for Optimus to suddenly keel over and slowly deactivate.

But the conditioning, as quiet as it was, was still more domineering. Because despite hating and despising this disgusting creature, Starscream still inched over to him. Moving on hands and knees. It hurt too much to stand; every attempt ended up with painful spikes rushing down his backstrut and overwhelming dizziness.

Crawling like this, however, only seemed worse.

"Thatta boy," Optimus cooed. He took one wing nub, and Starscream choked down a small cry as he was pulled roughly between the Prime's legs. Optimus showed him the medicine. "Let's help you unwind a little."

Starscream ground his teeth; he didn't need to look up to know Optimus was... was dipping his fingers in the liquid. He knew what happened next. And every time Starscream thought he'd get used to--as much as this reality pained him--he never would. Even when he had no pride or dignity left, that sting would never, ever fade.

Starscream twitched at the single droplet of fluid hitting his knee. A finger gently rapped on his shoulder. Obediently ( _obediently and Megatron would be so ashamed_ ), Starscream raised his head; optics looked fleetingly from Optimus's powerful but relaxed gaze to the two fingers coated in the medicinal liquid held close to his face.

"Now. Say 'ahhh.'"

Starscream worked his jaw, nearly straining an actuator. Then, exhaustion coupled with defeat-- Optics half-lidded, tired, surrounded by rings of grey, he slowly opened his mouth.

"Wider," Optimus ordered, voice stern.

Starscream winced; opened as wide as he could, though it hurt. He tried to ignore the acid and oil rising in his fuel pump as the edges of those large, slick fingers pushed past his lower lip. His tongue recoiled, just slightly, and he squeezed his optics shut again.

"Go ahead."

Starscream closed his mouth slowly around the fingers. Reluctantly started sucking--just a little; he jumped when a finger reached up to stroke the roof of his mouth. Warm air rushed past the digits as he sighed; he wrapped his lips around the fingers, working them up and down in slow, heavy strokes.

Optimus purred, his engine rumbling.

Starscream swallowed down small gulps of the medicine. He could feel the lining of his throat start to tingle from its effects. Just a little more, and it'd start to kick into his central nerve network. He closed his optics, lips dragging up and down the fingers. Tongue lapping beneath them. He exvented in a wheeze when Optimus pulled his fingers free, mostly clean of the liquid.

Starscream finally swallowed down the giant lump forming in his throat, tongue tasting more of the medicine along the inside of his left cheek.

Optimus silently slipped his fingers back into the cube. Swished them around, as if he were stirring a nice cup of warm engex. He withdrew them, covered to knuckle in the thick dripping liquid. Starscream opened his mouth, this time without command; perhaps it was the medicine kicking in, but he leaned forward, reaching for those fingers with quiet, growing desperation, all on his own.

Optimus chuckled. He pushed the pads of his fingers into Starscream's mouth, and Starscream took the rest. Started sucking again, in the same, slow rhythmic pattern.

Except, well, the pace seemed a bit _too_ slow for Optimus.

Starscream choked, gagging on the fingers as they were thrust deep into his mouth, pushing against his intakes. He coughed around them, struggled, and then the digits hooked onto his bottom teeth, yanking him over. He impaled himself on the damn fingers, and whimpered; it took him one very painful moment to get the hint. Starscream started working the digits faster, cheeks hollowed. He took them as deep as he could, and each hit to his intake made it harder for him not to purge.

But he knew not to do that. He knew Optimus would not approve.

The medicine, fortunately, was starting to dull the pain. The fear, not so much, but at least Starscream could do this without wanting to collapse from the severe migraine thumping behind his temples and the back of his helm. He opened his optics, half-way again, putting all his attention and effort in cleaning and pleasing those fingers. Tongue lapping against every inch and seam, teeth very carefully grazing along their topsides. He drew the fingers completely out; only once, just to lick the edges, before taking them full back into his mouth. He couldn't feel them in his mouth as much anymore.

Optimus was purring, very clearly quite pleased. Starscream did not like that sudden warmth blossoming in his ember at the sight and sound of his happy captor. It was mixed signals--all mixed signals these days. He wasn't glad he was satisfying Optimus; he was glad he was satisfying him enough so as not to get hit or further tortured.

Optimus thrust his fingers down along the tongue, pushed hard and fast enough to earn a reaction. Starscream hacked, energon bubbling in his throat. The medicine was making him slow, sluggish, and he fought not to succumb to sweet exhaustion to continue sucking on those fingers. He tried, and it became quite obvious he was failing; his sucking slowed to something clumsy, and Optimus-- Instead of reprimanding him, simply chortled.

"Good boy," Optimus hummed. He slowly removed his fingers, Starscream's mouth open as he panted, threads of coolant mixed with the medicine connecting them. The strands broke and popped, and Optimus sat back, putting the cube aside. Starscream shivered, sagging forward; drool dribbled from the edges of his mouth, down his chin, but he... didn't care.

Optimus pressed his wet hand against the side of Starscream's helm. "Good boy," he repeated, and Starscream, too doped up and in need of affection, nuzzled weakly into his palm, his own engine weakly thrumming. Optimus ran his fingers down his cheek, thumb gently wiping away a spot of medicine at the corner of his parted lips.

Optimus gathered to his feet, walking around the limping Seeker. He plucked a small pile of datapads from his desk before returning to the bed, sitting back down. "A little business to attend to," he said. He switched on the first datapad as he reached out, pressing his hand to the back of Starscream's head. It only took a little cajoling before Starscream willingly crawled forward, curled up against one of the Prime's legs, and rested his cheek to his thigh.

Optimus went to work reading, one hand idly petting Starscream's head. A small part of his fatigued mind told Starscream he'd regret this later--just like all the times before. But right now, his mind was lost in a fog, and he could not see Megatron's disappointed face, and nothing in the world mattered.

Not anymore.


End file.
